


All the Color

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age 2
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-03
Updated: 2011-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-18 22:27:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/193978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt on the kinkmeme:</p><p>After a rough patch between the two and in a fit of blind rage Fenris slaps a magic inhibiting, mage control collar on Hawke and takes him/her roughly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Color

His head is pounding. (Why is his head pounding?) Sense of direction has been-- skewed and he is upside down, or sort of, sort of sideways, sort of being fucked into the wall but he can't figure out which direction is--

\--is--

His hands slide along the stones, trembling with the curious weakness that has come over him, and his head is _pounding_ , really throbbing, and someone is fucking him into the wall _who is that_ doing this, and why, and why are they doing it here and not in a bed? And if he's honest with himself it's starting to get hard to feel anything, except the vague sense of pleasure that is someone making sure the angle of entry isn't painful, more than it is that it's pleasurable.

The light feels like it's dimming. He's aware of lyrium tattoos, like delicious beacons across the sea, like lighthouses, like lanterns in a dark cave. He can _feel_ them, even though his face is being pushed into the wall. When he twists himself around, turning his head over his shoulder to try to look, the face that he sees is a mass of gray, gray skin, gray eyes, gray hair, gray, pointed ears. There is a strange clarity in what he sees. He thinks to himself that that man, there, is Fenris. He knows that Fenris is in some kind of relationship with him.

Also, Fenris is having sex with him, though he does not feel pleasure or pain. He doesn't feel anything, except his head pounding. But that is fading now.

He rests against the wall, his struggles giving way to quiet acceptance; Fenris is still too angry to notice or care, and only after he's finished does he seem to remember that this is Hawke he's fucking, and usually they do this for mutual pleasure.

"...you needn't act like I've broken you," Fenris spits, seething with anger. He seems to think that Hawke is mocking him, but that is certainly not the case; when the other man has stepped back, Hawke kneels before the wall, calmly resting, aware of the semen that drips down his thighs, aware of the slight pain from their rough sexual encounter. He has been stretched and sore before. It is not a dangerous wound, no cause for alarm.

He speaks up quietly, his voice flat and unassuming. "I mean no disrespect. I am not broken, Fenris." Slowly, he stands, bracing his weight with one hand. The gray wall is firm under his gray hand, and the world is narrow but easy to navigate.

Hissing, the elf storms away, hastily donning armor again, growling to himself. "I still don't see why you had to be so damned irresponsible." Fenris's voice is uneasy, and rough with suppressed emotion. Remembering the argument, Hawke can understand why a person with emotions would be upset, especially someone with such strong emotions as Fenris. He turns to watch the elf, impassive.

"I am sorry, Fenris. I did not mean to worry you. At the time, I thought my actions would spare Isabela pain; I did not wish to put myself in danger."

"Why are you talking like that?" Fenris snarls, buckling his breastplate on and looking up at last. Something about Hawke's expression seems to startle him-- badly. He steps back, as if preparing to run, before he recovers.

Hawke is already answering calmly, "The magic-suppressing collar seems to have temporarily severed my connection with the Fade." He is peaceful, if only because there is no other way to be. His mind is unaffected. He does not smile, but he is not hurt. "If this distresses you, you can take it off."

Not 'I'd like to take it off'; no desire. The world is flat, shades of gray, but they are shades he sees very clearly. Fenris's expression is bleeding guilt and he can't get to Hawke fast enough to unlock the collar, to cast it aside, hissing sharply "Maker, Hawke, I'm sorry, I'm _sorry_ , hold still--"

A click, and the latch releases; the collar swings open and falls, unassuming, to the floor.

Hawke's knees give out, dropping him straight into Fenris's arms, still naked and defenseless against all that damned pointy, prodding armor. He coughs, as if he had been choking in a hangman's noose. Clutches Fenris desperately close, as if he is afraid he will be pulled back under some phantasmal tide.

He _is_.

"F-fenris," Hawke chatters, as light and sound and color _bloom_ and for a moment he is plagued with strange afterimages and otherworldly whispers not normally part and parcel with being a mage. He swallows hard, groaning in something a little like pain. "D-damn you, n-never--" He coughs again, blinking away a few pain-tears and pushing Fenris away, now that his knees are feeling capable of sustaining him. " _Never_ do that again."

Fenris could not look more like a wounded animal if he tried. "I- I won't. Are you-- are you better now?"

All Hawke can remember is Karl, that poor bastard Anders had once been in love with. Numbly, he nods. "Promise me."

"I promise."


End file.
